Cliched, but it feels so good
by a rather slytherin gryffindor
Summary: It was a personal challenge, a way for Draco to get back some of the ground he had lost. It was simple and sweet as only the best kinds of revenge are... at least it was supposed to be. SLASH. D/H
1. The beginning of the End

Hello all! This is my first (published) story, so please, handle my baby with care! This is (obviously) a slash fic, a crack fic, and a delightfully cliched and mildly predictable fic. Still, I hope that you enjoy it, and give me your honest opinion when you review. I'll update a new chapter every day or so... the length of the story is still to be determined, though. I certainly have enough for a few chapters (that will be longer than this one, I promise) and who knows what will happen if the plot bunnies decided to take off with me again?

As I said before, this is a slash fic, as in DracoxHarry, as in _male_ on _male_, as in covered in rainbow sprinkles and absolutely loving it. SO! If, for whatever reason, you have a problem with this, then you are in the wrong spot. Please, leave quietly and don't, for goodness sake, review just to preach to me about your views on homosexuality. As for the rest of you yaoi fangirls and boys, please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, and enjoy the ride!

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Draco Malfoy walked through the empty corridors of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry; enjoying the absence of the two Neanderthals he called his "friends". _'hmph, as though I could really be friends with idiots like them. What does a guy have to do to engage in an intelligent conversation around here?'_ He was supposed to be in double potions right now, which was his favorite subject, taught by his favorite teacher. _'So why did Dumbledore have to go and ruin it by making us take it with those Griffendorks?'_ He had skipped, knowing full well that his godfather wouldn't report him, or even scold him for it. He would, however, look at Draco in such a way to make his disappointment clear the next time they saw each other. He always did. _'I'll apologize to Sev later.'_ he thought, dismissing any trace of guilt. He just didn't feel like dealing with Potter today. The prat had gone and gotten surprisingly good at potions, making it increasingly difficult for Snape to find fault in his work and make a fool of him in class. Not that he didn't still manage to find a way to take points from Griffindor on a daily basis, but Potter wasn't making it easy for him.

Draco sneered, the mere thought of the Golden Boy leaving an acrid taste in his mouth and darkening his mood further. It used to be that Draco had a bit of an upper hand in their rivalry; after all, he was better looking than Potter, his breeding was exceptional, his clothes were never anything less than immaculate, his taste was, of course, impeccable, and he was taller, smarter, wealthier, and much better at potions. Honestly, the list of what Potter was lacking just went on and on…or at least it used to. He scowled, reflecting darkly on the nerve of Scarhead to go and tip the scales on him. At first it had been a gradual change, the growing of a gangly boy into a young man, but when he had stepped onto the train this year, even Draco had done a double take…not that he would ever admit to it. Instead of the nerdy, speccy, awkward rival he was used to, this Harry Potter was lanky, toned and confident. Gone was the pale skinned boy in his cousin's cast-off clothing; this boy…no, this young man was tanned a honey gold, and wearing casual, but fashionable and fitted clothing that not even Draco could criticize. He had apparently ditched his dorky glasses sometime over the summer, opting to get his vision magically corrected, and without his lenses to hide them behind his vibrant green eyes seemed so much brighter. His fan-club had doubled, at_ least_, and Draco had heard the girls, (and a few boys!), describe his eyes as "bottomless pools of jade." _'You have got to be kidding me…'_ he scoffed, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. _'…all the git does is develops some semblance of a fashion sense, and suddenly people are spouting poetry about him. Bad poetry, I might add. Besides, his eyes don't look a thing like jade… they're obviously closer to emeralds. Bottomless pools of emeralds.'_ A little voice in the back of his mind, one that sounded eerily like that know-it-all mudblood Granger, questioned why he knew exactly what color Potter's eyes were, but he ignored it. Quidditch and time had been good to the boy-who-lived-to-torment-him. Despite being a good four inches shorter than his own six-foot-two, the prat continued to systematically win every single Quidditch match, and it infuriated Draco to no end. Try as hard as he might, he still couldn't out-fly the Golden Boy.

Draco's brow furrowed, his eyes a stormy gray as he turned yet another corner somewhere deep within the bowels of the castle. As his brooding thoughts were all turned inward, he didn't notice the other boy until they collided painfully with each other. He staggered back, the impact throwing the other, smaller boy onto the floor as Draco caught his balance against the wall. Biting back curses, he looked down at the boy sitting on the floor before him, who was rubbing a head of dark, messy hair and muttering something about Merlin's balls, before raising familiar green eyes to meet his own icy ones. Harry's apologetic grin froze on his face when he realized who he had run into, before fading all together. The Slytherin ice prince narrowed his eyes, the all too familiar Malfoy mask, complete with smirk, in place as he drawled, "Dumbledore's Favorite skipping class? What in Merlin's name is the world coming to?" Harry scowled and stood abruptly, his sudden proximity forcing Draco to step back to avoid being hit. "Shove it, Malfoy." He said, his lips twisted into a frown, but his voice lacking the usual sting. Confused by his rival's apparent lack of fight, Draco forgot for a moment that he was a Malfoy and allowed one of Crabbe and Goyle's favorite words fall from his mouth. "Huh?" Harry looked at him for a long moment, his eyes full of nothing but boredom. "I'm tired Malfoy. Tired of you, tired of your shit, tired of _this_."

"…This?" Draco repeated, completely lost.

"This!" Harry said, exasperated, gesturing at the air between the two of them. "The constant hatred, the arguments, the stupid, petty fights. Think about it Malfoy, we have been fighting since the first day of school. The first day of school…_six ruddy years ago!_"

Draco's mouth opened and closed several times, before he managed to come up with some kind of a retort. "Well…well, that was your fault! You refused the friendship I so generously offered!" _'Smooth, Draco, real smooth. Way to sound like a petulant child, that'll show him!'_ Harry's irritated voice interrupted Draco before he could berate himself further.

"Of course I refused! You were being a royal prick! You still are!" Sighing, he stepped back, running a hand absently through his perpetually messy hair. "See? It's happening again. It's the same every day, Malfoy. We see each other, you say something idiotic, I retaliate, we get into an argument where you insult my looks, heritage, lack of parents, friends and house, while I insult _your _family, looks, attitude, friends, flying and house. Then one of use throws a jinx, we duel a bit, our wands get lost somewhere along the line, and we end up rolling on the floor beating each other bloody. I'm tired of it, okay? I'm just sick of the constant, pointless competition. I'm done with this whole thing…I'm done with you."

With that, he turned his back on the speechless blonde, and walked away. Draco didn't move until long after Harry's footsteps had faded and the dungeon cold had begun to seep into his bones. _'…what just happened?' _


	2. Of secret fetishes and irritation

Here's the next chapter! There will be slash, so you have been warned. Also, there will (now, and more blatantly in the future) be Pansy bashing. Lots and lots of Pansy bashing. Mayhaps she will make it to the end of this story alive. Mayhaps…mayhaps not. *evil laugh* nah, nobody's going to die…unless they piss the blot bunnies off, then, who can say what will happen? Please, read and review, your comments and suggestions are most welcome.

DISCLAIMER!!!!! I do not own these lovely, lovely subconsciously-gay-and-obviously-pining-for-each-other-despite-Rowling-playing-them-off-as-married-in-the-end-of-the-book boys, or the rest of the characters in this story. They belong to the inspiring J.K. Rowling, and whoever else needs acknowledgment for copywrite's sake. I do, however, lay claim to my plot bunnies and my wonderfully over-used plotline.

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Draco walked into the Great Hall late for dinner and completely self-absorbed. He had barely made it to the Slytherin table when he was unceremoniously glomped by Pansy and yanked down to sit beside her. "Drakey, oh Drakey!" she squealed into his ear, completely ignoring the way he winced away from her. "Where in Merlin's name have you been? Oh, never mind, you missed the funniest thing! Oh, you should have been there, you would have just _died_!"

Sighing, he glanced around the room and noticed how the students were whispering to each other, and several small groups were giggling while all eyes were fixed on the Griffindor table. Raising an elegant eyebrow, he decided that perhaps he _had_ missed something, and turned to indulge Pansy by listening to whatever piece of gossip she had to spew today. "Alright Pansy, I get that I should have been there, now stop giggling for a moment and tell me what's going on."

"Oh, you should have come to Potions, you really shou-"

"Pansy."

"You see, we all thought that since both you and Potter were missing from class, that you had gotten into another fight somewhere, and I said that obviously you must be off kicking Potter's arse, but that Weasley boy and his frizzy haired girlfriend were all like 'oh no, Harry is so great and wonderful' and I was all like 'shut UP losers' and they were all like 'no _you_ shut up' so I was like 'no _YOU_ shut up' and then I was all like…"

"Pansy…"

"…and then that Irish fellow who is SOOOO obviously a fruit was all like 'well what if they're hurt' and then that pathetic Longbottom drops an entire jar of crushed pixie wings into his caldron, an _entire jar_! Drakey, can you _imagine_? When we were only supposed to use a pinch, and …what is a pinch even, anyway? Does it make a difference if your fingers are different sizes, and how can you be sure tha-"

"PANSY!" He glared at her, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to imagine how the bloody hell he was supposed to survive the rest of his life with this girl. "Get. to. the. point."

She pouted at him for a moment, then apparently her need to gossip overcame the desire to appear wounded, and she grabbed his shoulders and turned him around to face the Griffindor table. There was a knot of seventh years surrounding someone sitting towards the center of the table, and it was towards them that Pansy directed his attention as she continued to whisper her story in his ear. "So like I was saying, Longbottom screwed up, as usual, and Snape was in the middle of calling him a fool when in walks Potter! He was fully half an hour late and Snape was _furious_! Oh, he chewed him out beautifully, and then he said as a punishment he would have to test Longbottom's potion, and…here's the best part…Potter grew _ears_!" She looked at him expectantly, as though waiting for some kind of reaction, and he stared blandly back at her.

"Ears?"

"Yes! Ears! Isn't that just fantastic?"

"…Pansy, Potter already had ears." Draco stated dryly, wondering if her apparent stupidity was contagious.

"NooOOO! Not _those_ kind of ears! _Cat_ ears!" Having apparently reached her limit, she immediately collapsed into a heap of giggles, and once her words sank in, Draco let slip a chuckle or two of his own. Cat ears? Now this he _had_ to see…

Pansy grabbed his arm and tugged on it, trying to get his attention and finish whatever she had to say between giggles. "That's not even the best part! No, the best part is…oh look! He's standing up! You can see for yourself!"

Draco looked over at the Griffindor table again and, sure enough, the knot of people was dispersing to reveal Potter at the center of it. He calmly stood up and removed his robes, revealing the dark green fitted sweater and acid washed jeans he wore underneath. He could have been wearing a corset and pink bloomers for all anyone in the room cared, all eyes were fixated on the pair of delicate, silky, black cat ears situated on the top of his head. There were a few titters, mostly from the Slytherins and the first years, but the majority of the hall was silent as the young savior of the wizarding world climbed up onto the table and faced them. Turning around so the student body could get a good look at his back side, he paused and waited a moment for the new round of giggling to die down. Draco's jaw dropped open as far as his Malfoy pride would let it go, and Pansy whispered in his ear, "See? I _told_ you it was brilliant." Draco let go of a breath he didn't know he's been holding, his eyes wide, _'…brilliant indeed.'_, because there, smack at the base of Harry's spine, was a fluffy, swishing black tail.

Harry turned back around and shot his captive audience a lazy grin, causing almost half of the female student population to swoon, just a little bit. Shrugging, he said in an amused voice that carried easily throughout the hall, "I suppose that you are all wondering about my new…accessories." He paused for the quiet laughter to die down. "Well, I was late to Potions today, and as a result had to be the guinea pig for my friend Neville here's botched potion. Personally, I think that the good Professor" he shot a pointed look at the potion master sitting at the head table "was hoping that I would contract some sort of horrible disease…but I seem to have acquired these instead. I dunno, I kind of like them. I think perhaps I'll hang on to them, yeah?" He was interrupted by an outbreak of nosebleeds, which Dumbledore found most amusing, as he had previously had no idea how kinky his students really were.

Harry watched as house elves appeared and discreetly handed out handkerchiefs, before joking "What were _you_ all thinking?" in a voice that suggested he knew exactly what was going on in their minds and heartily approved. "Anyway" he said, turning to a blushing Neville and shooting him a grin, "thanks mate…and thank _you_, professor." His cheekiness was received with a scowl and it was very clear that Snape was not pleased with the end result of his chosen punishment. Harry smiled even wider at this, and with an over the top flourish, sent a mocking bow in the direction of the head table. He lifted his head and locked eyes with Snape, giving him a saucy wink that angered him even more, twitching his tail and giving the rest of the school, Draco included, a rather nice view of his arse in the process.

'_Hmmm, Quidditch HAS been rather good to him. I guess that I can sort of see what all those rabid fan-girls find so attractive.'_ Draco mused, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned forward slightly to get a better view.

"Drakey…Drakey? Hel-LOO?" Pansy whined, eventually drawing Blaise's attention away from the third year he had been flirting with. Irritated that he had to pay attention to something other than his newest piece of jailbait, Blaise reached across the table and nudged Draco to get his attention. Blinking, the platinum haired boy turned and raised an eyebrow, questioning in a subconsciously aristocratic manner the purpose of Blaise distracting him. The dark-skinned boy sighed and rolled his eyes, gesturing at the sulking Pansy. "For Salizar's sake, mate, would you pay attention to your bloody girlfriend? She's driving me crazy here."

Draco glanced over at Pansy, and then back at his best friend. "She seems to be sitting quietly now."

Pansy squawked indignantly, and then got up and flounced away in a huff. Draco watched her go, knowing that she was going to be insufferable later, but that all it would take to get back into her good graces was a gift of the gaudy and tastelessly extravagant jewelry she loved so much. It mattered little what he got her, so long as it looked, and was, expensive. He would send an owl out to one of the jeweler's his family used before curfew, but in the meantime he would enjoy not having to deal with her. Turning to look back at Blaise, he met his amused eyes and shrugged carelessly. The other boy shook his head and chuckled. "I swear mate, you two…geez. Why do you put up with her if you could really care less about her?"

Draco picked up one of the pastries floating on a nearby platter and studied it carefully before taking a bite. Chewing and swallowing, he looked at Blaise with a resigned expression on his face. "I'm a Malfoy. And Malfoys marry pureblood girls in order to maintain the purity of our line. The Parkinson's are wealthy and pureblooded, and Pansy is an easy lay. It's been common knowledge since we were children that we would marry one day. Honestly, whether or not we like each other has little to do with it." He laughed cynically. "When it gets too bad, I'll just do as father does…I'll cheat. So long as she bares children that are all legitimately mine, no one really cares about fidelity."

Blaise grinned and nodded, acknowledging the truth of that. "But seriously mate, why were you ignoring her? You know it's going to cost you."

Draco returned his attention to the pastry, answering between bites. "I wasn't ignoring her, I was…thinking."

"Thinking? About what that was so important you couldn't hear her bitching?"

Draco paused, the pastry halfway to his mouth, and tried to remember what it was that had tuned Pansy out. _'I was thinking about Potter's fan-girls finding him attractive…and Quidditch…and Potter…and cats…and Potter…and Potter playing Quidditch…and Potter on a broom with cat ears wearing nothing but a…!?!?!' _"Oh sweet Merlin, that is so wrong!" He whispered, before his body rejected the pastry that he had eaten all over the table. An embarrassed tinge stained his cheeks as he noticed all the eyes in the Great Hall were trained on him in shock. All eyes, that is, except two. While everyone else was pointing and laughing or grimacing at the Prince of Slytherin, Harry Potter was busy eating and reading through Hermione's potion notes, completely ignoring the revealed contents of said Slytherin's stomach. For some odd reason, this blatant disregard for his discomfort really irritated Draco. He didn't have time to do anything, however, as Madame Pomfrey chose that moment to grab his arm and start hauling him towards the infirmary. He groaned, irritated but unable to do anything about the situation, and wondering how the hell he was going to explain to his father the reasoning behind his very un-Malfoy like behavior. He glanced up just before they reached the doors of the Great Hall, and was surprised when he locked eyes with Harry. Green met silver and held, unreadable and unflinching. They stared hard at each other for a long moment, before Harry shrugged and began reading again. Draco's eyes widened and he could feel his irritation rising. He had just been snubbed. He, Draconias Luciuos Malfoy, had just been given the royal brush-off! _'Nobody ignores me. Who the bloody hell does that prick think he is? Acting as though I'm of no importance, telling me that he sick of me, going and becoming attractive and making me think those things about him…IamnotattractedtoPotter, IamnotattractedtoPotter…I'll have to put him into his place, he's just gotten too damn cocky. I'll MAKE him pay attention to me, and then I'll teach him a lesson he'll never forget!'_

So starting the next day Draco put all of his effort into making Potter's life miserable. He pushed him in the hallways, mocked him every chance he got, jinxed his school books to eat his homework, conspired against him with Snape, showed off his newest and best clothing, pulled fancy maneuvers in Quidditch, found new, more derogatory words to insult his friends and family with, really, anything that he could think of to get underneath Potter's skin. Yet it didn't seem to accomplish anything. No matter what he threw at him, Harry took it all in stride; ignoring the bait and brushing off insults as he went. Days turned into weeks and Draco hadn't even managed to pull more than a slight frown out of the Golden Boy…Harry wasn't fazed at all. The Slytherin playboy's temper, on the other hand, wasn't holding up nearly so well. He hadn't realized the amount of time that he and Potter spent sniping at each other until the other boy stopped giving him the time of day. Now, all the time that he was used to spending plotting to get rid of Potter, or acting pissy because he had gotten another detention thanks to Potter, was spent plotting ways to garner some attention from Potter or sulking because he had been given the cold shoulder again.

He was in one such sulking mood at the moment, arms across his chest and eyes downcast and muttering to himself as he walked down the hallway towards the room of requirement. Still grumbling, he turned the corner and BAM! ran straight into the source of his irritation. Draco suffered a moment of reeling déjà vu as he stared down at a mop of messy dark hair and a pair of irritated green eyes. Sighing, Harry began to gather his scattered books and papers, and, without thinking, Draco bent to help him. Harry's movements paused, and he watched the Slytherin with wary eyes, waiting to see what he was planning on doing. Gathering all the papers together, the blonde tapped them into a neat pile with pale, slender hands. Offering them to Harry, he waited for him to take them, and was confused as to why he was being stared at in such a weird way. He was about to snap out something along the lines of 'what the hell are you looking at' before he realized that Harry was _looking_ at him. Not past him, or through him, or off into space Merlin-knows where, but actually looking _at_ him. _'Why? What am I doing? I haven't insulted him, and bumping into him has never worked before, so why is he paying attention to me when I'm not trying to-! Is that it? Is it because I'm not…messing with him? So…if I act…decent…then…'_

"Here." He said, shaking the papers in front of his face and urging him to take them. Slowly, Harry reached out and took them, his eyes never leaving Draco's face. "…thanks." He said quietly, looking as though he half expected the papers in his hands to start to bite. Draco smiled a quick smile of victory, before realizing how very un-Malfoy like that was, and schooling it into a smirk. It was a little too late, though, because Harry had seen, and his mouth was hanging open in shock.

"Stare much?" Draco drawled, taking care to make sure that his voice lacked all of its usual malice. Harry's jaw dropped even further, and his eyes widened as he stared at Draco as though he grown an extra head. Deciding that he liked being able to get a reaction out of the Griffindor, Draco leaned forward towards the kneeling boy, laughing softly and determined to press his advantage. "What's the matter, Harry?" He practically purred, reaching out and closing his mouth with a gentle hand. "Cat got your tongue?"

He looked at his dark-haired captive, resting a hand on Harry's cheek for a moment as he studied him. His eyes were wide and questioning, swirling with confusion, his mouth had fallen slightly open again, and a light blush was darkening his tan cheeks. A surge of triumph rose in Draco's chest…this was it! After all these weeks, he finally had Potter's undivided attention, and he wanted to make sure that he kept it. He was back in control and he was going to milk it for all it was worth…all he had to do was keep Potter off balance.

"Your mouth is open again." He murmured, racking his eyes over his face and looking for a clue as to what he should do next. Then his eyes fell back onto Potter's lips, and without thinking he jerked forward and pressed their lips together. The contact only lasted a few seconds, before he pulled back as though he'd been burned. Keeping his composure, he whispered "There. Better." before patting his cheek, rising, and walking away, leaving a speechless and shell-shocked Harry behind him.

well, that's it for today! whaddya think? review for cookies!


	3. Of fretting and evil plans

Hello my freaky darlings! I'm back, and I bring gifts in the form of my next chapter,...erm, blurb! I must apologize for the unexpected delay in my updating…I'm afraid that some things came up with work and school, and I've been unable to write as a result. But here I am, and I hope that you will forgive me for making you wait. This one's obscenely short, but I wanted to get you a little something today, with more to come tomorrow.

As I've stated before, this is a slash fic, so if you don't like, then don't read. Simple enough, yeah? I'd like to think so…

Disclaimer time…no, I don't own them…if I did, then they would not be children's books, and the story would revolve around me seeing how many sexy men I can make go gay for each other…so no, I obviously don't own them. .

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Draco managed to keep his strides even and his pace sedate until he reached the empty Slytherin common room, where he allowed himself to run the short distance to his private room and slammed the door shut behind him. Slumping against the mahogany wood, he absently touched his fingers to his lips, wondering what in Salazar's name had possessed him to actually _kiss Harry fucking Potter_. Slowly, he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, still trying to figure out how he was going to handle this one. If his father found out! ...he shuddered to think about it. If there was one person on the face of this earth that his father despised more than all the muggles combined, it was Harry Potter. He actively encouraged their rivalry and berated Draco every time that Potter somehow got the best of him…were he to hear that his son had _kissed_ the despised boy-who-would-not-die…Draco shook his head. That absolutely _must not_ happen! The question was; how on earth could he keep Potter from talking? Knowing what a goody-two-shoes the Boy Wonder was, he would probably keep his mouth shut for a little while. There were a lot of derogatory things that Draco could say about him, but calling him a gossip was not among them. In fact, the only time that Potter actually showed a spiteful side was during their many arguments and petty fights, almost all of which Draco initiated. So for the time being, there was a chance that this whole embarrassing and confusing episode would stay under wraps…but one wrong move on Draco's part and Potter would start firing everything in his arsenal…and tonight's events would be a bomb that not even the Golden boy would be able to resist dropping. Then the whole school, and eventually his father, would know that Draco, heir to the Malfoy family and Slytherin Ice Prince, had kissed Harry bloody Potter. Draco knew that he was a notorious playboy…there were few good-looking students in Hogwarts that he had not tumbled already, some multiple times. His exploits in empty classrooms and his private prefect's quarters were gossip fodder and hardly a surprise anymore. He was a horny teenager, he wasn't looking for anything more than a quick shag in between classes or the occasional one night stand, and he was infamous for not being particular about the gender of his bed…or desk, or wall, or broom closet…partners. So the fact that he had kissed another male was hardly a scandal…kissing the Chosen One, however, was.

Draco pushed away from the door and started pacing, worrying his lower lip between his teeth in an unconscious nervous gesture. He had no idea how his reputation was going to survive this one, what Potter had to say was going to be irrevocably damaging to his image and had the potential to seriously undermine his place as the head of the Slytherin house. He had to find some way to turn this back on him, to negate the power that Potter now held over him. Yes, he had been the one to do the kissing…_a pathetic brush of lips, nothing more, and yet it was going to cause so much trouble. What on earth had possessed him?!?_...but he could point out that Potter hadn't done anything to stop him, hadn't even pushed him away! Granted, there hadn't been time for him to- their sham of a kiss had been far too short for any kind of retaliation on his part- but the rest of the school didn't know that. He could say that it had lasted longer…he could even say that Potter had participated, had kissed him back. It wasn't true, but with only Potter to deny it, there would be plenty who would believe it to be completely valid. And then wouldn't he be embarrassed! Draco only wished that there was some feasible way that he could make Potter seem as needy and desperate for Draco's affection as some of his more pathetic conquests, the ones the entire school looked down on because they actually thought that they meant something more than a casual fling to the Slytherin. If only he could make it seem like Potter was actively seeking Draco's attention, and that Draco was only toying with him…then Potter would be humiliated and his reputation would be secure. He chuckled darkly, what he wouldn't give to see the look on Potter's face when Draco pulled the rug out from underneath him…it was really too bad that there was no way he could pull that off. Draco paused mid-step. What a moment! What was really keeping him from pulling something like that off? Granted, it would take a bit of time and a lot of manipulating to achieve, but it wasn't entirely impossible…he grinned and resumed pacing, as the makings of a deliciously Slytherin plan began to form in his mind.

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I'm sorry about the length, but I promise, there will be a decent chappie out ASAP!!!


	4. Of midnight strolls and confusion

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Hello Duckies! I'm back, with a lovely chapter this time…and I hope that you will forgive me for the obscene delay. This one will have a little something for everyone…a little bit of evil Draco, a little bit of confrontational Harry, and a little bit of fluffy nonsense that I hope will satisfy. .

MAN SMEXX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, not really…but I figure that should scare away those that have no business reading my story. ^-^

DISCLAIMER: I do not own them, yadayada…but I wish I did.

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The next day passed by in a blur, with both boys too lost in their thoughts (or schemings) to bother trying to bring up what had happened between them. As the days progressed, though, the growing tension between them was drawing the attention of even the most oblivious students. Draco knew that he was standing on perilous thin ice, and that in order for him to push Potter in the direction he wanted him before that ice broke, he would have to be very subtle about it.

Draco had broken his plan – dubbed the "Make Potter love me for the Sex god I am so that I can Crush Him into Little Bitty Pieces" plan- down into stages. Stage One was Keeping Potter Guessing. He left him to stew for a few days, not really paying him any attention, but not openly snubbing him either. Most importantly, he wasn't instigating any form of conflict…he hadn't even insulted the Weasel clan, or that bushy Granger once. Potter was confused, and as Draco had expected, brooding over their kiss in silence, unable to find any way to bring it up without the help of Draco being an arse.

He had been in the library one afternoon and overheard the Golden Side-kick's asking Potter if everything was all right, and whether or not something had happened. He stepped over into the next aisle, positioning himself a few feet behind the weasel and the mudblood so that Potter could clearly see him. He watched as he opened his mouth to reply, then caught sight of Draco standing there watching him, and quickly shut his mouth again. Draco smiled at him, enjoying the way that his eyes widened comically at the sight, and quietly walked away. Inside he was triumphant. So Potter hadn't told his friends what had happened yet…and that meant that it was time to move on to Stage Two before he worked up the Gryffindor courage to do so.

Stage Two had to potential to be the hardest and most crucial part of his whole plan; Make Potter See my Good Points. After having spent years building a reputation of undisguised malice and rivalry with the Boy Who Wouldn't Die, undoing that in as little time as possible was going to be difficult. Somehow, he had to convince Potter that he had undergone a radical change of heart…and the only way to do that was to drown him in unexpected kindness. At first Draco had balked at the very idea of being nice to his long-time rival, but then he realized that it was necessary for his plan to work, and that since the kindness was a deception in and of itself, it would be mildly satisfying in its own way. His first chance came about a week after the Incident, and after checking to make sure that there was no one around to witness it, Draco quickly moved in.

Potter had been partnered with Longbottom in Potions, as Snape had never really forgiven him for the whole cat-ears thing, and when their cauldron predictable exploded- covering the entire dungeon room in slime that induced fits of giggles- Snape assigned them both detention, then ran from the room in a swirl of black robes before the students could hear him giggle in an undignified manner. Longbottom was busy scrubbing the entire room clean, laughing so hard he was crying, and Potter had been sent to another room to scrub out all of the cauldrons. He was coming down the hallway carrying a precarious stack of cauldrons and laughing quietly to himself when Draco found him. Stepping out in front of him, he deliberately ran into the oblivious Griffindor, grabbing his elbows to steady him as the cauldrons clattered to the floor around them. Pulling the smaller boy flush up against him, he fixed his face into a mask of sheepish surprise and smiled apologetically down at the confused brunette. Green eyes blinked, and then met his angrily, but Draco moved to cut him off before the accusations could start to fly. Swallowing his pride, he looked down at the other boy and …began to lie.

"I'm sorry about that Potter…I wasn't paying attention and didn't see you coming until it was too late." Looking around them at the scattered cauldrons, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and casually slid his hands from Potter's elbows to settle on his surprisingly thin waist. "Geez, look at all of them…and after you just cleaned them, too."

He returned his gaze to the Griffindor, amusement shining in his eyes when he realized that the dark haired boy was standing stiffly, his hands clenched into fists and arms at his sides, eyes locked on Draco's hands at his hips. Trying not to laugh, as that wouldn't go with the apologetic personae he was putting on, he flexed his fingers over Potter's hip bones once, then abruptly let him go, moving to pick up the nearest cauldron. A small, gleeful voice in the back of his mind was systematically analyzing Potter's every move, and it noted with no small amount of satisfaction that he had shocked and confused the boy so thoroughly, that he hadn't giggled once since they collided. Forget giggling! He seemed too confused to even put together a coherent sentence! Draco had to hide a small grin as he straightened with two of the cauldron in his arms. Perfect.

"Well Potter, since this is kind of my fault, and since you had your wand taken away for your detention, I'm going to charm these cauldrons into the storage room, and we just won't tell Professor Snape, okay?" He shot the boy another small smile, before taking his wand out of his pocket and levitating the cauldrons towards the storage closet with a flick of his wrist. The last one had just floated through the door when Potter finally seemed to get his voice back. Staring at Draco suspiciously, he frowned and cleared his throat.

"What…what exactly are you doing, Malfoy?"

Draco looked back at him, trying his best to seem innocent of any and all plotting. "I'm helping fix the mess I made…isn't that kind of obvious, Potter?"

Harry's brow furrowed, and his eyes glittered with barely contained confusion and general mistrust. He was off-balance, and it was painfully obvious to Draco that he didn't like it one bit. "I can see that Malfoy…the question is why? Why did you bother, why do you even care? Why?"

Draco smiled and stepped forward, stopping mere inches away and looking into his eyes for a long moment, before reaching up and wiping a bit of potion sludge off of Potter's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Why not?"

.......

A few moments later found Draco sauntering towards his room, satisfaction radiating from every pore on his body. The look on Potter's face! Oh, it was priceless, and it was only the beginning. By the time that he got through with him, the poor bastard won't be sure of anything anymore…and when Draco moves in for the kill, he'll never even see it coming.

.......

So the next two weeks passed by quickly, with every little action on Draco's part sending Harry further into confusion. Unfortunately for the Gryffindor, the blonde had realized not only would acting subtly and inexplicably sweet work towards achieving his goal, it would also prevent Potter from being able to confide in his friends. After all, what on earth would he say to them? "Guys, I'm afraid that Malfoy is up to some nefarious plot…he complimented me on the color of my eyes today." Draco chuckled into his porridge, trying to imagine how that conversation would go.

Because he_ had_ been complimenting Potter…on everything from the color of his eyes, to his newfound sense of fashion and even on the way that his hair fell into his eyes and curled around his ears. Surprisingly, it was not as difficult as he had thought it would be for the Slytherin to find nice things to say about his rival. It was slightly unnerving at first, even if it did make his act all the more believable, but eventually he had been able to rationalize it. After all, he was someone who appreciated attractive things, and somewhere along the line Potter had fallen into that category. He had to admit that he had developed some sort of obsession with his hair…it was just so dark and curly and completely untamable, yet it was surprisingly soft and it smelt like vanilla. And he should know, as one of his newfound favorite ways of messing with Harry involved coming up behind him and twisting a dark lock around his finger while he remarked on something casual and irrelevant, or simply tucking an unruly strand behind the raven's ear with no explanation at all.

He had made it a point to invade Harry's space as much as possible, without drawing unwanted attention from others. He would catch the boy alone between classes or at a moment where even the other 2/3s of the Golden Trio were too busy to be paying attention, and then stand as close as he could get away with. He would talk of the most inconsequential things –upcoming Quidditch games, or shortcuts available on last night's transfiguration homework- but his actions would brief and intimate. So far, the Golden Boy still had not figured out how to deal with this new approach. He would stammer out replies, his wide eyes fixed on Draco's face or on the hands casually settled on his waist or stroking his inner wrists, but he could never seem to voice the questions swirling just under the surface of his eyes. As far as Draco was concerned, this was perfect. The more foundation he could manage to lay down before Potter finally cracks and initiates Stage Three, the better.

He made the most progress at night, when the mildly insomniac Chosen One would wander the corridors, aimlessly and mercifully alone. He had stumbled upon these nightly walks quite by accident the year before, and now he used that knowledge to his advantage, intercepting his green-eyed prey when he least expected it and accompanying him on his wanderings for a few moments before slipping away. The first night Potter had drawn his wand on him, but after seeing that Draco was unarmed and claiming to simply be unable to sleep, his Gryffindor morals made him put his wand away. He did manage to tell him to sod off, but Draco was undeterred by his apparent lack for want of company and persisted.

Slowly, he could tell that the other boy was coming to accept his presence on his nightly jaunts, and he was lengthening the time he spent with him on them, but he knew that if he made any sudden moves at this point, the confused and stressed Gryffindor would bolt like a frightened animal. Still, he could tell he was making progress. They never spoke much at night, they simply walked side by side- Draco perhaps a little closer than strictly necessary- through the dark and dusty unused corridors, their way illuminated by the light from their wands. Nights was a time for thinking for Harry, and too much sound would wake the portraits and perhaps draw attention from Peeves or his ilk, but the silence had morphed from an awkward one to something akin to companionable. Why, just last night they had ended up in the astronomy tower, staring up at the stars until early in the morning…and Potter hadn't even noticed that half the time Draco's fingers were in his hair.

Draco bit back another grin, pushing away his porridge and ignoring Pansy's pout as he gathered his books and headed for class. His plan was working flawlessly, so not even Pansy's bitching that he was neglecting her could bring down his mood. First class was History of Magic with the Gryffindors, and from the looks Potter had been shooting him over breakfast and the way he's acted last night, Draco had a feeling that today was the day he finally cracked. Sure enough, about halfway through class, just when Draco thought he'd fall asleep from Professor Binn's droning voice, Potter made his move. He had just finished pinching his leg for the fourth time to force himself awake, when messy script not his own began scrawling its way across his otherwise blank notes.

**S****leepy Malfoy? Do try to stay awake a moment longer.**

Startled, Draco caught himself actually looking around for a moment, before his searching silver gaze caught Potter watching him from the corner of his eye. Ah. Picking up his quill, he placed it on the page and wrote '**Whatever for?**' and noted with satisfaction that beside his own elegant script, Potter's handwriting looked like a toddler's. Nothing happened for a moment, and he was beginning to feel a little foolish when words once again began appearing as though written by a ghostly hand.

**You're always going on about how smart you Slytherins are, can't you take a guess?**

Draco smirked, and quickly replied.

'**Let's pretend, just for a moment, that I was sorted into…oh, say, Gryffindor. Humor me.'** A reply came much more quickly this time.

**You, a Gryffindor? The world shudders at the thought. So why pretend?**

He chuckled. So his little lion had finally gotten his bite back. He pushed aside the little voice that questioned his use of the possessive. '**I just enjoy making you spell it out.'**

**Prick.**

**'Yes?'** He could practically hear Potter grinding his teeth, but he could see that the corners of his mouth were twitching upward, just a bit.

**We need to talk.**

**'About?'**

**You have to ask? Meet me in the astronomy tower, midnight?**

And there it was…Boy Wonder's first move. But this wouldn't do, it gave the raven the semblance of the upper hand to extend the invite, and Draco needed to go into this with it clear that _he_ was the one in control. He needed to push him just a bit further…

**'No.'**

He set his quill down and steadfastly ignored any further writing, knowing full well that this would infuriate the Gryffindor into further action…but not in front of others, never that. Not surprisingly, he was grabbed and pulled aside moments after class ended, and dragged to the nearest empty classroom. The door was shut behind him, and he was spun around to face a very irritated brunette. "Why the hell not?" the smaller boy demanded without preamble, his hands clenched at his sides and his lower lip jutting out in a border-line pout. Draco merely raised an eyebrow, the shameless playboy inside of him openly admitting that Potter looked utterly fuckable when he pouted.

"Because." He stated, and turned to leave, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his arm.

"That's not an answer!"

Smirking a little, Draco turned around abruptly, startling the other boy and taking advantage of that to back him up until he was pressed against the wall. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the wall on either side of Harry's head and their faces a scant few inches apart.

"Because…we have nothing to talk about."

"Wha-" Draco kissed him quickly, effectively cutting off whatever indignant retort he had in mind. The raven stilled beneath him, not cooperating, but too shocked to resist. Draco moved his kips against Harry's frozen ones, pinning the other boy to the wall with his body and lifting him a little off the ground. Dredging up all of his considerable experience, he tried every trick he knew to coax the frozen boy into responding, determined that this kiss would make up for the amateurish press of lips that had started this whole thing.

Crushing their lips together, he suckled and nibbled on Harry's bottom lip until he gasped and opened his mouth slightly. It was just a little, but it was enough, and Draco chose to invite himself in. Quickly slipping his tongue past Harry's parted lips, he began to gently map out the contours of his mouth, staking his claim on the new territory. Finally the other boy began to respond, placing a tentative and calloused hand on Draco's chest and moving his lips against the blonde's. Draco waited until he felt the touch of Harry's tongue against his, before he slowly pulled away; watching through half-lidded eyes as Harry unconsciously followed him, before catching himself and stilling. He kept his face close, studying the other boy as he opened his eyes, his lips pink and swollen.

"Now…" Draco said softly, "Now we have something to talk about." With that, he once again stepped back and left a speechless Harry behind him as he walked away.


	5. Of Hand shakes Long Overdue

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Hello my duckies! I present to you the next chapter in this little ficlet of dubious originality. This chapter is a little something for those of you who are kinda fed up with Harry being so damn easy to manipulate. Or perhaps, simply just too freaking tongue-tied. Heck, even I'm irritated with his apparent lack of wit or any sort of knee-jerk reactions…and I'm the one writing him. While he does have to be played like a violin for the sake of the story ( I do luff Harry, but my heart goes out to my dragon and therefore I must favor him in whatever evil little Slytherin plot he's weaving) I will try to insert some semblance of a backbone into him in this chapter. *nods* anyway, on with the story!

Warning…slash, maleXmale, yadayada…

Disclaimer: yeah, I own them. I didn't last chapter, or the chapter before, but I own them in this one! …okay, not really. But must you really crush my dreams?

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Fourteen minutes until midnight found Draco checking his reflection in the mirror for the sixteenth time, straightening his robes and fiddling with the hemline of his shirt. He was confident…everything was going exactly according to plan, and he was going into this meeting tonight with the upper hand…but underneath the confidence was a small quiver of nervousness. Tonight would be the night he convinced Potter that not only had he underwent a major change of heart, but that the two of them should give a more "genial" relationship a serious shot. It was one thing to convince Potter he had gone and gotten a personality…adjustment…he knew that his actions over the last month or so had more than confused the other boy enough to make him start to believe that. But to convince the Boy-Who-Lived-to-shag-poor-redheaded-blood-traitors that they should start a relationship of another sort, well, it would take every ounce of persuasion and subtle skills of coercion that Draco had at his Slytherin disposal. Not to mention an acting job worthy of a …what was it that those muggles strived for?...ah yes, a Grammy!

Draco sighed, and stared at himself critically in the mirror. His hair fell artistically in his face in a way that he knew made him look rakish, his clothes were expensive and designer, as was expected from a Malfoy, and they showed off his lean and Quidditch-toned body to its fullest advantage. His cashmere sweater was a muted shade of icy blue that brought out his eyes, and his jeans (something that few had seen him in, as he loved the feel but wouldn't be caught dead in public in muggle clothing, but he figured would help score points with Potter) fit him like a glove. Deciding that there was nothing more he could do – after all, why mess with perfection?- he turned from the mirror and glanced at the clock. Six until twelve…time to go.

He slipped from his rooms and into the common room, checking to make sure that there was no-one to see him before exiting through the portrait hole. Glancing over his shoulder every once and awhile, he sauntered towards the astronomy tower exuding an air of confidence he wasn't necessarily feeling. He had Potter thoroughly confused, to be sure, but was he confused enough to forget his apparent hetero-sexuality? Draco had entered into this plan working on the assumption that his rival would be exactly the same as most of the other "straight" boys who had found their way into his bed; they simply couldn't resist his looks and powerful bad-boy persona. The only glitch was that Potter had never seemed to be impressed by him in the least…in fact, he even seemed to despise Draco for the very things that had others vying for his attention. Damn Gryffindors and their stupid bloody moral code of honor or whatever the hell it was that caused Potter to refuse his hand in friendship.

Yet he had kissed him back this afternoon. That was as good an indication as any that perhaps the Golden Boy wasn't as immune to Draco's charms as he pretended to be. Draco smirked, latching on to the rational of that and pushing all doubts from his mind. There was no way that his plan could fail…he was a Malfoy, and he was about to do what Malfoys do best; get what he wanted by lying and manipulating and sleeping his way into the position that he desired.

It was a few moments past twelve when he stopped outside of the astronomy tower door. He waited for another few moments, planning on entering at exactly the right time. It wouldn't do to show up exactly on time…he needed to make the Gryffindor wait at least a few moments to remind him that this little meeting wasn't Draco's idea…but if he left him to wait for too long, he might get his little burgundy britches in a bunch, and Draco needed him to be in as good of a mood as possible. He waited for another heartbeat, before reaching out and quietly opening the door. He made sure that the face he presented to Potter was void of any negative emotions, and as falsely "open" and welcoming as he could make it. Closing the door behind him, his eyes sought out Potter in the darkened room, irritated that the moon outside wasn't full enough to chase away the shadows. Suddenly, the room brightened, and Draco had to take a moment to blink away the spots left in his vision.

Potter was standing in the middle of the room with his back to Draco. He had been pacing while he waited –Draco had heard him while he was standing outside the door- but now he stood stock-still, his eyes fixed on the ball of light he had conjured to float above their heads. Draco allowed himself a small smirk. Pacing was good, it meant that Potter was nervous…and Draco wanted him to be as nervous as possible. It would make him more open to suggestion, and-

Potter turned around abruptly, and Draco lost his train of thought as he met those deep green eyes. He had been banking on the Gryffindor being nervous and confused, and he could see in the other boy's eyes that he was. But there was a steely determination in those eyes that Draco had not been expecting, and the set of his mouth was downright grim. Draco allowed himself to consider for a moment that perhaps the Chosen One had gone and decided to stop being so predictable…that perhaps this might not go as smoothly as he had thought…and just like that, his prevoius nervousness was back.

Potter took a step forward, his shoulders tense, his lips pressed together in a slight frown, and his eyes fixed firmly on Draco's face. He seemed to study him for a moment, before he abruptly reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out his wand. Draco froze, silver eyes widening slightly as the idea that perhaps Potter was going to hurt him in retaliation for the kisses flashed through his mind for the first time. But the dark haired boy only flicked his wand to the side, and a wooden chair appeared a few feet to Draco's left. He stared at it for a moment, then glanced at Potter with a raised eyebrow. His questioning gaze was met and held, but the Slytherin was determined not to show how unnerved he felt.

"Sit down."

Draco winced inwardly, that wasn't a suggestion-that was a command. He weighed his options, trying to decide whether or not it was in his best interest to do what Potter said. On the one hand, he had no idea what the other boy wanted from him, but on the other hand, dare he refuse? Holding his hands up in a placating manner, he went and sat down in the chair, slouching with his feet crossed at the ankles and stretched out before him, and his hands folded across his stomach. Satisfied that he had done what he had been told, Potter stalked forward until he was a mere two feet away, and stared down hard at the platinum haired boy.

"This is how this is going to work, Malfoy. I'm going to ask you questions, and you…you are going to answer them. Truthfully. No games. Now since I know how hard that may be for you, you being the very slippery Slytherin and all, I'm prepared to offer you some incentive." The smile on Potter's face was deceptively sweet, but his eyes were hard and his voice was cold. "You'll do as I say, and tell me what I want to know, or…" his smile grew slightly dangerous "I'm going to hex your bollocks off. Are we clear?"

Potter's voice booked no nonsense, so Draco just nodded and tried his best to keep his face as innocent as possible. The dark haired boy was running the show right now, and Draco would much like to keep his bits where they were, if that was quite all right. He sighed quietly; this was not how he had pictured this little meeting going. Harry was pacing again, and Draco found his eyes following him, studying his every move. He was like a caged tiger. No, Draco mused, more like a lion. Regardless of how this walking around showed Potter's fit body off, -Draco's eyes fell on his Quidditch-toned arse for a moment before snapping back to the other boy's face- the tension was building and Draco just wished that he would start with the questioning already!

Finally, just when Draco thought he would have to goad the other boy into doing something, Potter turned to face him with a heavy sigh, and ran his hands through his messy hair, making it stick up in odd directions. '_Here it comes…'_

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"I beg pardon?"

The Gryffindor rubbed his palm down the side of his face and raised his eyes heavenward as through beseeching patience. He settled his gaze on Draco again, then started staring at a spot only a few feet in front of him. Draco raised a manicured eyebrow, wondering if the Boy Wonder had abruptly gone bashful on him, when there was a sudden 'pop' and another- much more comfortable looking, Draco noted irritably- chair appeared in front of him. Eyes wide with shock and mild, grudging respect, he watched as Potter sat down and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped before him.

"Please tell me that you used your wand for that, I just simply didn't see it." The green-eyed boy looked up from his hands, and a small smile tipped the corners of his mouth.

"I used my wand. You simply didn't see it." He parroted back.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him. "Hey now, there's no need to be snarky. You do stuff like that often?"

"Yeah…when I want to. It's not that hard."

Draco sputtered. "Not that hard? Potter, wandless magic is a pain in the arse, and you're considered good if you can do something small like witch lights or heating tea with it!" There was a something that might have been a bit of a sparkle in those green eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at Draco as though to say, 'and your point is?'.

"So why exactly didn't you use your wand?"

"Because."

"You felt like it?"

A careless shrug. "Yeah."

Draco leaned forward, unconsciously mimicking Harry's position and bringing their faces within inches of each other. "Let me get this straight…you just used wandless magic to conjure a bloody _chair_ out of thin air –something that I couldn't even dream of doing- because you _felt like it_?!?"

"Yeah."

There was definitely a twinkle in his eyes, something the prat must have gotten from Dumbledore, and Draco shook his head in disbelief. "See, now you're just showing off." he muttered. There was a sound suspiciously like a chuckle from his scarred companion, and Draco felt the hint of a smile dancing around his lips. Then he blinked, realizing that he had just had an amiable conversation with his rival for the first time, and glanced up to see that Potter had realized it too. Sure, over the past few weeks he had been talking civilly to the Gryffindor, but he had never gotten much of a sensible reply to anything, and their interactions could have hardly been counted as conversations. That was…pleasant. Surprisingly so. Why, Draco hadn't even been thinking about being nice, it had just…happened. He mulled that thought over in his head…he must be a better actor than he had thought! Perhaps this evening wasn't unsalvageable after all…all that he had to do was get it back on track.

"So…" he drawled, getting Potter's attention, but trying to keep the mood light, friendly and ball-hexing free. "I believe I was being interrogated?" The other boy jerked slightly, as though he had forgotten that was what they were doing, and nodded, gathering his thoughts again.

"Right…I believe I asked you what exactly you were doing."

Draco shrugged. "I would have thought that was fairly obvious."

Potter's face was devoid of emotion, his eyes serious and wary. "Apparently not. By all means, enlighten me."

Inwardly, Draco was a little nervous. This was it; this was where he had to convince Potter that he harbored nothing but the best intentions toward him. That he was worth letting into the Gryffindor's inner circle and his fuzzy little lion heart. His face showed none of this, of course, and he made sure that he looked as earnest as possible.

"I've been trying to be your friend Harry."

Surprise flickered across his face, and the green eyed boy seemed a bit at a loss. Draco wondered idly what exactly he had been expecting him to say.

"I…you mean…friends? Us? Are you serious, or-" he blinked, and realization dawned across his face. Draco swallowed, had he figured him out? "You…you just called me _Harry_." Draco almost laughed, was that all?

"Yes." He replied, the amusement plain in his voice. "It's hard to be friends with someone when you're constantly calling them by their surname. I figured that it's about time we stopped all that nonsense."

"Stopped all that nonsense?" he repeated slowly.

"Yes. I've been thinking a lot about what you said to me. You know, in the corridor earlier this year. About being tired of all this?" he paused, catching the other's eyes with his own stormy grey ones. Actually, that part was true…he _had _been thinking about that conversation, just not for the reasons Harry would assume. Still, he wanted the other to see the honesty in his eyes. "I'm actually pretty tired, too. So I did a lot of thinking, and I decided that you were right."

Harry looked like he had just been told that Snape was secretly in love with him. "I'm…I'm right?"

"Yeah." Draco reached out and took the other boy's smaller hands between his own. "We have so much in common, and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to try to…you know, start over. Try this all again. And I have been trying…so what do you say? Will you give me a chance?"

Harry stared at their hands, his thoughts whirling behind his eyes, and Draco could practically see him weighing the options and replaying the past month or so in his head. Finally, he looked him square in the eyes and nodded once. Draco's face lit up as he smiled, and he forcibly hauled the smaller boy to his feet as he rose and swept him into a hug. Harry gasped in surprise, and patted him awkwardly on the back.

"You mean it? That's great…no, that's wonderful!" Draco didn't even have to fake his joy; he was so relieved that Potter had bought it he couldn't help himself. Finally, he loosened his grip and let the brunette step back, but still kept his hands on his upper arms. Harry chuckled and visibly relaxed, shaking his head at Draco's enthusiasm.

"Are you always like this with your friends?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at this question. "Like…what?"

Harry gestured at Draco's hands on his arms. "So, erm, affectionate."

Draco smiled, an opening. Time for the next stage of his plan: Turn Potter into a Pile of Needy Goo. "I'm not. I don't treat my friends this way."

Harry frowned slightly, and an errant thought that he looked rather adorable when he was confused skittered across Draco's mind. "I thought that you said you wanted to be friends."

Draco smiled, his voice low and sensual as he slid his hands down to wrap around the smaller boy's waist. "I would _like_ to be friends, yes…but I would absolutely _love_ to be more…so much more."

Harry squeaked and froze for a moment, before pushing against Draco's chest and breaking from the light hold, moving to stand a few feet away as though he needed air. "Um…well, I don't know about that, I mean…you're not serious, are you?" Draco simply nodded, staying where he was. "Well, I mean…you're an attractive bloke and all, but, you know…I'm not really…well, I least I don't _think_ I am…" Draco let him scramble around for another moment before stepping forward and placing a finger over his mouth to silence him.

"Harry, it's okay, really. I can wait. We can start out being friends." The raven nodded, and Draco took his finger away, then offered his hand. "Friends?"

Harry smiled, and if Draco's heart skipped a beat from having that smile turned on him for the first time, he would later say he imagined it. "Right. Friends." And finally, 6 years after he had first offered it, Harry Potter shook his hand. "Friends." He repeated, as though savoring the sound of it and marveling at this change.

Draco grinned, and used their joined hands to pull Harry flush against him. "Yes, friends." He said softly, his voice husky. "How about friends with benefits?" and with that, he kissed him.

...........................

well, what do you all think? review and let me know, please! lots of kissing in the next chapter...i'm feeling a bit of fluff coming on... *evil grin*

see you next time!


	6. Of Heavy Snogging and Overlooked Details

*waves* Hello lovies! I have to, yet again, apologize for the ridiculous amount of time I've made you wait...there's been a lot of things going on in my life, and unfortunatly, they've pushed writing right out the window. but I had today free, and I told myself that I was going to update today no matter what.

This chapter is going to contain some fluff…aw, who am I kidding? You could drown in the fluff I'm about to present you. *sweatdrops* But I am a fluff monster at heart, and I figured I'd waited a sufficient amount of time to insert copious amounts of it into my story. . so…enjoy!

WARNING!!! This contains slash, as in maleXmale. As in tow very attractive lads snogging each other's brains out. So…if, by some odd chance you have gotten this far into my story and yet you aren't a fan of this…goodbye. Please don't slam the door on your way out, it'll wake the plot bunnies and then Kami knows what will happen to this story!

Disclaimer…I don't own them. *sits in corner and grows mushrooms with Tamaki-sempai*

………………………………….

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat that might have been a protest of some sort…but if a protest is never allowed to be voiced, does it even count as one? Draco decided not. He let go of Harry's hand in favor of threading his fingers through his dark hair and cupping the back of his head to keep him firmly in place. He wasn't really sure when his other arm had snaked around the smaller boy's waist, but he really didn't care how it got there, so long as it stayed. The raven raised his hands to push on Draco's chest, but Draco was having none of that, and somewhere along the line hands meant to push became fisted in his shirt and stayed there. Tilting his head, Draco slid his tongue along the seam of Harry's lips, begging for permission to enter and deepen the kiss. After an agonizingly long moment, pink lips parted and Draco delved inside with a grateful sigh. He had gotten a brief taste of the Gryffindor before, but hadn't really had time to appreciate it, and he planned to be thorough this time.

Silently, he thanked Merlin or whoever was listening for making the Golden Boy attractive. He would have gotten his revenge one way or another, but this way…well, he wasn't ashamed to admit that he was enjoying himself. Sweet _Salizar_, he tasted good! Slowly, he drew the smaller boy's tongue into his mouth and sucked on it, savoring the taste of honey and butter-beer and something that he supposed was just uniquely Harry. There was another low rumble of sound from deep in Harry's throat, but as this one sounded less like a protest and more like a moan, Draco only smirked and pulled the dark haired boy impossibly closer. Harry's hands, still fisted in his shirt, were trapped between their bodies, and he made a small displeased sound before tugging them free and resting his hands on Draco's shoulders. Using them as leverage, he finally managed to break their kiss, and quickly pulled back as far as Draco would let him go, which was all of about an inch. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, Harry's frustrated and Draco's half-lidded and amused, their faces close enough that every heavy breath they took ghosted over the other's lips. Rather abruptly Harry seemed to come to some decision, and he closed his eyes and let out a sigh of irritation and what Draco smugly recognized as resignation.

"Draco, you're-" he stopped, frowning as he heard how breathy his voice sounded, and cleared his throat before continuing. "You're not going to stop doing that, are you." It wasn't so much a question as a statement of fact.

Draco shook his head minutely, a small smile playing on his lips. "No."

Something in his voice made Harry's eyes snap open, and he stared at him hard for another heartbeat before lifting his hands from their resting place on Draco's shoulders. Afraid that he was going to try and run, Draco tightened his hold on the lanky Gryffindor's neck and waist, but his fears were proven unfounded as Harry proceeded to wrap his arms around Draco's neck. His eyebrows shot up towards his hairline at this, but the smaller boy simply grinned crookedly and shrugged, muttering something along the lines of "resisting would be too much work" before jerking Draco's head down and sealing their lips together.

Draco froze for a moment in shock but Harry continued undeterred, rising up a little on the balls of his feet to lessen the height difference, and letting his eyes slowly flutter closed as he enthusiastically plundered Draco's unresisting mouth. His brain tried rather desperately to process this sudden development, but it soon gave up as his mind began to fill with a pleasurable haze. A low, rumbling growl broke from his throat, and he twisted his fingers into thick, dark hair and fought for control of the kiss. Lips and teeth and tongues clashed and twisted together in yet another in a long line of power contests between the two of them. It was sloppy and harsh and held just a tinge of desperation to it, along with the faint metallic taste of blood from abused and bitten lips.

There was little doubt in his mind that he was going to dominate the smaller, more compliant boy, but damned if Harry wasn't going to make him fight for it. Sharp teeth tugged cruelly at his lower lip, causing him to wince slightly from the sudden pinch of pain, but teeth were quickly followed by tongue to sooth over the small wound in an unspoken apology. Smirking at the sheer Gryffindor-ishness of the gesture, Draco caught that tongue with his own and chased it back into its owner's mouth. Draco prided himself on being an excellent kisser; he was, after all, a Malfoy, and therefore exuded perfection, but he wasn't focusing on using any of his amazing skills right now. In fact, he had probably never engaged in a more amateurish and brutal kiss and he thought, as Harry finally relaxed submissively into his hold, that he had never enjoyed a kiss more. Some sluggish but still functioning part of his brain filed that thought away underneath "random thoughts I will rationalize later", a moment before all coherent thoughts ground to a halt.

Quiet moans and pants filled the room, muffled for the most part by their joined mouths. Draco wasn't even sure that all of those embarrassingly needy sounds were coming from Harry, but he was really too far gone to care. As addicting as he found the taste of his messy haired prize or the feel of him firm and eager beneath his hands, even Hogwarts' most promising young wizards must eventually succumb to the laws of nature, and they were forced to break apart to fill their burning lungs. Giving him time to catch his breath, Draco attacked his neck and collarbone with bruising nips and sucks that would ensure a mark remained come morning. He wanted there to be no question about who the Golden Boy now belonged to. Harry's hands were tangled in his hair, and he was leaning on Draco for support, his heavy breathing sending puffs of warm air into Draco's ear. A delicious shiver ran down his spine, and with a last lick at his adams apple, he found Harry's lips and covered them with his own again. Their bodies were molded together, and at some point Draco's hand had slipped underneath the hem of Harry's shirt and was caressing the skin of his lower back. His skin was warm to the touch, and he suddenly wanted to touch so much more of it. He was actually halfway through removing the shirt from a very agreeable Harry before realization crept in.

It took all of his willpower to pull away from the smaller boy, but he knew that if they didn't stop now, they wouldn't be able to stop at all. An urgent throbbing below his belt seemed to punctuate that thought, and he sat down heavily, pulling Harry down with him. There was a low moan of protest, but the other boy seemed to have come to a similar realization as he didn't try to continue their activities, opting instead to climb into Draco's lap, wrap his arms around the blonde's fit waist and lean into him. Draco rolled his eyes at the typical Gryffindor need to cuddle, but couldn't help feeling pleased anyway. He loosely returned the embrace, absentmindedly noting how easily his rival fit into his arms, and he let his eyes lazily drift until they were half-open as he listened to the sound of Harry's breathing in the quiet room. It was dark save for the moonlight, and he idly wondered when the witch light had gone out on them. His eyes slowly closed, and he didn't even bother to try and fight the drowsiness, allowing himself to drift off. An errant thought skimmed across the surface of his mind just before sleep pulled him under, and it sank almost unnoticed deep into his subconscious where he would not stumble across it for some time. _'I don't think that I've ever felt this good before…_'

.................

The bright sun shining persistently on his face woke Draco from a deep, easy sleep. At some point in the night he had fallen over onto his side, ending up on the floor curled possessively around Harry. The dark-haired boy was still fast asleep, his face buried in the hollow above his collarbone, his breath ghosting over Draco's neck. Draco shifted and gently untangled their limbs, his body stiff and sore from sleeping on the cold stone of the astronomy tower floor. Groaning quietly, he sat up and winced as his limbs began to tingle as the feeling returned to them. Standing somewhat shakily, he staggered over to the window, brushing himself off and trying to arrange his hair in some semblance of neatness.

A soft sigh signaled Harry's return to the waking world, and he reached his arms out as though searching for something before sitting up and rubbing his eyes groggily, a small frown on his face. Draco realized that he was searching for him, and a small chuckle escaped him, drawing the sleepy boy's attention. Smothering a yawn, he blinked at Draco blearily, obviously not recognizing him. Then realization dawned and his cheeks and ears darkened as he blushed beneath his tan.

"It…it wasn't a dream?"

Draco raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "You dream about me often?"

Harry quickly ducked his head, muttering something that was undoubtedly some form of a protest. Chuckling again, Draco crossed over to him, offering the blushing boy a hand and pulling him to his feet within the circle of his arms. Harry shuffled his feet, worrying his lower lip between his feet, obviously trying to come up with a way to voice some difficult question. Draco kept his arms around him and waited patiently, fairly certain he already knew what the question would be. Last night, despite its rocky start, had worked out better than he had expected. He had been under the impression that he would have to fight against Harry's sexual preferences before the smaller boy gave into his advances, but apparently the Chosen One wasn't as straight as every thought he was. Now he just had to rely on his Gryffindor sense of righteousness to move them further in the direction Draco wanted them to be in. Any moment now…

"Um…Draco?"

Bingo. "That _is_ my name."

Harry shot him a glare, then softened and continued. "What…exactly, does this mean?"

Draco bent a placed a chaste kiss on the dark hickey he was sporting on his neck. "You're mine."

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, but it was obvious he was just posturing to avoid seeming too pleased. Draco almost grinned at how well he could read him. "That's not what I meant, you arse, and you know it!"

"Oh?" Draco was determined to keep his tone non-committal, he wanted Harry to be the one to define their relationship, so that it seemed like this whole thing had become _his_ idea, and was not the result of Draco's scheming.

"Look here, Mal- Draco. I'm not like you; I don't fool around with someone for a little while before moving on to my next victim." Draco smirked at his choice of words, earning himself another mildly annoyed look. "I don't do casual relationships, friends-with-benefits or whatever the hell you call it."

Draco carefully schooled his expression into one of keen attentiveness, and rubbed his thumbs in soothing circles in the small of Harry's back. "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that we're either going to have to be friends, never k-kiss again, and forget that this ever happened, or…you're going to have to stop sleeping around and try to see where this goes."

So close, but not quite there… "So what exactly are you asking me to be? Because I want to be more than friends, Harry, but what do you want me to be?"

Harry 's blush returned and he stared resolutely at the middle of Draco's chest, fiddling with the hemline of his shirt. "I'maskingyoutobemyboyfriend."

Draco smiled. "I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch that."

Harry glared up at him, but he looked him in the eyes this time as he repeated it. "I'm asking you to be my b...my boyfriend."

Draco's smile widened, and he leaned down and gave his new boyfriend a quick kiss. "How could I say no?"

Inside, Draco was gloating. He had said yes…he had agreed and now his plan could proceed. He would be the best boyfriend in the world. He would spoil and smother Harry with affection, and he would make the untouchable Golden Boy fall head over heels in love with him. And then…well, he would teach him a lesson that he would never forget. And all along the way he would get to enjoy his rival's Quidditch-toned body to the fullest. He wondered if the unlucky-in-love Gryffindor was a virgin…seeing as he was so adamant about them having a serious relationship and his past failures with various girls like Cho Chang…he must still be a virgin. A feeling of possessive joy at the thought swelled in his chest, but before he could begin to wonder where the hell that came from, his thoughts were interrupted.

"Um, Draco? What are we going to tell the others?"

The others? For a moment, Draco was confused, and then reality kicked down the door to their private little world with her combat boots. The others. Meaning the rest of the Golden Trio, the only people who might have the power to change Harry's mind about him, and the ones who just so happen to hate his guts. Meaning the entire Gryffindor house, and perhaps all of Hufflepuff and some of Ravenclaw, all of whom adore Harry as their savior and none of whom trust Draco as far as they could throw him without the aid of magic. Meaning the entire house of Slytherin, who obey Draco out of fear but don't particularly care for Harry. Meaning hundreds of people who had the ability to tell the world about their new 'relationship', including his father, who absolutely could NOT find out about this particular little plan.

Oh. The others. He had forgotten about the others.

Shit.

..........................................................

alrighty duckies, that's all for today. please read and review, and give me any suggestions that you can think of! until next chappie!


	7. Of life endangering gingerbaiting

Hello loves. A thousand pardons, I beg of you. *bows* I've been horribly neglectful of all of you wonderful readers. But! In my defense, life has been hectic beyond belief. As in, basic-military-training-and-no-access-to-the-internet hectic beyond belief. This wayward author of yours is officially and proudly attending college at one of our great nation's prestigious military academies! (I won't say which one, as of yet…although I highly doubt that any of my commanding officers are among my readers. I'm not sure how the academy would feel about my writing to you, so I'd rather stay safe than sorry.) I will wear my uniform proudly, and do my damndest to update on a more regular schedule. (on another side note, Don't Ask, Don't Tell has been officially repealed! Thank goodness for the small victories)

ANYWAY! I didn't own them when I started writing this…goodness, ages ago (sorrysorrysorry)… and I do not own them now.

Warning. This story contains public displays of affection between two males, and there is no "guy love" playing in the background. This is not friendly back slaps between "bros". This cannot be ignored as reading too much into a close friendship. THIS. IS. GAY. *kicks homophobes into giant pit*

welcome.

It was with his usual confidence that Draco walked into the Great Hall the next morning, but the cool-eyed boy was shaking with nerves on the inside. It wasn't the prospect of "coming out" to the school with Potty on his arm that was so daunting. After all, the school was well aware of his lack of discretion when it came to his bed partners, so it wasn't really much of a "coming out". Then again, there might be some stir over the implied lack of red-headed babies in their supposedly straight Savior's future…but that would probably be forgotten in the wake of the shock from their precious Golden Boy fraternizing with the "enemy". He had even clued the select few Slytherins who mattered in on the plan, so there was no worry about dissention in _his_ ranks- although most of them would have been thrilled about him "corrupting" Dumbledore's favorite pet regardless of whether or not they could see the bigger, grander picture. No, it wasn't the Slytherins or his reputation that had his palms sweating. It was the prospect of crossing that line into the lion's den and having to play the part of the reformed, doting boyfriend in the face of Gryfindor wrath. Namely poor, freckled Gryfindor wrath. Namely poor, freckled, aggressive Gryfindor wrath when he couldn't lift a wand to defend himself.

Taking a moment to check and make sure that the dozens of protective charms he had cast on himself were still in effect- after all, even crushing Potter wasn't worth physical harm- he sauntered toward the Gryfindor table with his head high and his trademark smirk in place. Potter saw him coming, and his green eyes widened and sparked with nerves as he shot furtive glances at his still-oblivious friends. Another few steps and he was standing at Potter's back, placing his hands on the table and caging Potter- no, better start calling him Harry to avoid slip-ups- between his arms. Conversation died and all the eyes at the Gryfindor table, and then slowly the entire Great Hall, turned toward them. Draco ignored them all for the moment, his smirk softening as Po-Harry turned his head to look up at him with a small, nervous smile. Knowing that if he didn't play his part perfectly P-Harry was still in danger of bolting, Draco dropped a soft kiss on Harry's upturned face and slid into the space between him and a shocked Longbottom. The mudblood's glass hit the table and cracked before rolling to the floor, and the bloodtraitors…only two of them, and Salazaar, but he was glad the rest of the lot weren't there…were turning the most unbecoming shades of red.

"What's the matter Weaselbee?" He drawled, wrapping a lazy arm around Harry's waist and feigning innocence. "Forgotten how to breathe?"

The Weasel's face turned, if that was even possible, an even angrier shade of red. Burgundy, if Draco wasn't mistaken. He wondered idly if the prat would pop a blood vessel.

"Draco!" Harry protested.

He turned to him with an eyebrow raised in a silent "what did I do?" but sighed and pressed a kiss into Harry's messy hair in apology. "That was rude of me. I meant to say, dear me, Weaslebee old boy, are you quite all right?"

Weasley sputtered, and his bushy haired girlfriend had lost her stunned look and was glancing between him and Harry through narrowed eyes. The speculating look unnerved him, and Draco quickly factored in another aspect to his plan. Harry had good instincts, and he would have to work very hard to fool them, but Granger…she was shrewd in ways that the disgustingly trusting Harry was not. He would have to always be on guard around her.

Draco glanced at Harry, rolled his eyes at the obvious nerves dancing across his face, and tucked the smaller boy more firmly against his side. Warmth bled into him, and Draco took a moment to enjoy the feeling of a hard body pressed close to him before turning to face the problem at hand. Or rather, the two blatantly hostile, potential catastrophes and the several hundred smaller problems at hand.

"Look...Weasley, Granger," he started, hoping that his face and voice were neutral, or even moderately friendly, and not as strained as he felt. "This is complicated enough as it is, so let's not make it any worse, shall we? Weasley, if you'd be so kind as to put your wand away…and Weaslette," he arched an eyebrow at the furious girl sitting a few feet down the table. "Let's put the butter knife down, shall we? There's a good ginger."

He had a brief moment to enjoy the fury spasming across the Potter-obsessed bint's face before her brother snarled and attempted to launch himself across the table at Draco. Granger grabbed the back of his robes and yanked him back, but Draco was on his feet with his wand trained on the fuming redhead anyway. Harry made a distressed sound and, quickly standing, placed a restraining hand on Draco's wand arm.

"Guys, please." he pleaded with his friends, then turned hard eyes on Draco. "Malfoy, for Godric's sake, put your wand away!" he hissed.

Draco met his gaze evenly, resisting the hand trying to push his arm down, but there was steel in Harry's face and he had come too far to ruin everything by being stubborn now. Slowly, he dropped his arm to his side and let his wand dangle from lax fingers.

"So it's 'Malfoy' again?" he asked, pitching his voice low and pleading for Harry's ears alone. The Gryfindor's face, predictably, softened, and he took Draco's hand and pulled him back down to sit on the bench.

"I'm sorry. Draco. But can we try not to start a fight?"

Draco smiled, partially because the Golden Boy was so easy to manipulate, and partially because the sap was already thinking of them as a unit, if he was referring to Draco's fight with a "we". Harry, oblivious to the reasons behind the smile, took it as agreement and easily leaned back into Draco's offered embrace. The blonde shot a small smirk at the Weasels, as both brother and sister were fairly gaping at Harry's casual use of his first name, and rested his chin on the top of that mat of dark hair. Closing his eyes and breathing in the sweet scent of Harry's shampoo, Draco found that schooling his face into a mask of affectionate contentment wasn't as hard as he had thought it would be. A part of him was disturbed that pretending to dote on his schoolyard rival came so easy to him, but he quickly dismissed it as a credit to his acting abilities.

Shifting so that he could press chaste kisses to the smaller boy's temple, he whispered "How about you tell them, babe? I'm afraid that anything I say will just bollocks it up." Harry pulled his head back to look at him incredulously.

"…babe?"

Draco smirked. "What? Can't I call you that?"

Harry shook his head, a small, self-conscience smile playing around his lips. "I suppose you can…it's just…weird."

Draco laughed quietly. "Babe, everything about this is weird." Harry snorted, and was opening his mouth to reply, a teasing glint in his eyes, when Weasley finally stopped his sputtering and found his voice.

"What the bloody FUCK is going on? What the hell do you think you're doing _Malfoy?_ Have you lost your bleedin mind?" he spat his name like it was poison "And Harry…Harry, mate…why are you letting him touch you like that? Is he…did he ki…kiss you? Like he…what…what the _fuck_?"

Draco bit the inside of his cheek harshly to keep himself from laughing. Harry and Granger were both trying to get the enraged Weasley to keep his voice down, but if anything he kept getting louder. Somewhere in the midst of his swearing and stuttering and accusing Draco of every evil under the sun, Harry got frustrated.

"Oh for the love of…would you please SHUT UP?"

Weasley stopped, his rant cut short, and stared at his friend. The great hall was silent, all murmuring and speculation stopped in favor of listening to the Boy-Who-Lived. Lowering his voice, Harry continued.

"Please, Ron…just be quiet and listen for once." He ran an agitated hand through his hair before settling it over his eyes and leaning his elbow against the table.

"Look, guys…the thing is…well," he faltered, and Draco began rubbing circles against his back. He vaguely remembered his mother doing that for him, back when he was young enough that such demonstrations of affection were still acceptable. It had calmed him down. Apparently it helped Harry, too, because he shot him a grateful look before turning back to his friends. He took a deep breath, and Draco could practically see him summoning the famed Gryfindor courage.

"the thing is that Draco's kinda been following me around a lot in the last few months, and he hasn't been a…well, he hasn't been a complete prat. We've been talking a bit, an-" Weasley held out a hand and cut Harry off.

"Wait. Wait wait wait wait _wait. _Malfoy's been _stalking_ you? Why the hell didn't you tell us?"

Harry stared at his friend incredulously. "What? No! He wasn't stalking me, he was just…" he stopped, blinked, then turned and looked at Draco. "Actually…you were kind of stalking me."

"Well, I wouldn't call it stalking, per say…"

"Draco. You were stalking me! I'm dating a stalker!"

"I'm not a stalker!" "You're DATING him?"

Draco glared at the Weasel for daring to talk over him, and tightened his hold on the brunette in his arms. Said brunette was hiding his face in his palm again, his ears bright red. A shocked murmur rippled through the great hall, but a thick silence had descended over the Gryfindor table. Jaws were hanging open, food was left forgotten on plates and forks, and the red flush spread form Harry's ears to his cheeks and down his neck under the weight of a hundred stares. Just as the tension began to become oppressive, the silence over the table was broken by an almost inhuman shriek. Draco's wand was out before he even figured out where the threat was, and this time Harry didn't reach out to restrain him.

The female Weasel, a snide part of Draco's mind quipped, had never looked so unattractive. For once, though, he decided to keep that observation to himself, because damn if he wasn't a little afraid right now. Having been on the receiving end of the witch's bat-bogey hex before, Draco was not eager to face her wrath a second time. She raised her wand with a hand shaking with barely contained rage, and used it to point at Draco accusingly.

"You!" she shrieked "you lying, slimy _bastard_! How dare you! How _dare_ you come here and imply that Harry would _ever_ be interested in a death eater like you!"

Harry stood and stepped in front of Draco, holding his hands out and murmuring her name in a soothing voice in an attempt to calm her down. Frowning, Draco stood as well, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder and pressing close behind him.

"Okay, first of all, I'm not a-" "MISS WEASLEY!"

Draco had never been so happy to be interrupted by his Godfather. In typical dungeon-bat style, Snape was in the middle of the argument with a swirl of black robes and potion fumes, and coolly plucked the wand out of Weasely's hand. She flushed, her skin blotchy and red, and continued to glare daggers at Draco. He smirked back at her, but a warning glare from Snape wiped the sneer off of his face.

"Mister Malfoy. Care to explain what you are doing at the Gryfindor table?"

Harry stiffened and Draco swallowed hard. This…was not a conversation he had planned to have with an audience. He shot a pleading look at the man who was a second father to him. He got a raised eyebrow for his efforts. Damn.

"Mister Malfoy. I'm waiting."

Read, review, please don't yell at me too much for my obscenely long leave of absence. It's good to be back.


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